Thirty-Six Lamps

Alma walked to the end of the pier every evening. She liked the hour before dark. The lamps came on one by one. Each lamp drew a round yellow spot on the water.

Alma berjalan ke ujung dermaga setiap sore. Ia menyukai jam sebelum gelap. Lampu-lampu menyala satu per satu. Setiap lampu melukis bulatan kuning di atas air.

Her days were busy, but nobody needed her in a special way. On the pier, she needed nothing either. That was the whole point.

Hari-harinya sibuk, tetapi tak ada yang membutuhkannya secara khusus. Di dermaga, ia pun tidak membutuhkan apa-apa. Itulah intinya.

This evening, a small black tube lay on the last bench. Alma picked it up. It was a case for camera film. Neat blue writing covered a label on its side.

Sore ini, sebuah tabung hitam kecil tergeletak di bangku terakhir. Alma memungutnya. Itu wadah untuk rol film kamera. Tulisan biru yang rapi menutupi label di sisinya.

"Lamps one to thirty-six. Do not lose," she read.

"Lampu satu sampai tiga puluh enam. Jangan hilang," ia membaca.

She smiled a little. Someone lost it anyway.

Ia tersenyum sedikit. Seseorang tetap menghilangkannya.

She opened the grey lid. A roll of film sat inside, tight in a metal case. She shut the lid fast. Light can spoil old film, she knew.

Ia membuka tutup abu-abu itu. Sebuah rol film ada di dalamnya, terbungkus rapat dalam wadah logam. Ia cepat-cepat menutupnya lagi. Cahaya bisa merusak film lama, ia tahu itu.

"Lamps one to thirty-six," she said quietly. "One picture for each lamp."

"Lampu satu sampai tiga puluh enam," katanya pelan. "Satu gambar untuk setiap lampu."

She turned and counted the lamps along the pier. There were exactly thirty-six. Each iron post had a small white number near the bottom. She walked here every evening, but she never saw the numbers.

Ia berbalik dan menghitung lampu di sepanjang dermaga. Jumlahnya tepat tiga puluh enam. Setiap tiang besi punya angka putih kecil di dekat bagian bawah. Ia berjalan di sini setiap sore, tetapi tak pernah melihat angka-angka itu.

Alma did not own a camera. She did not know the owner. But the roll felt heavy in her hand. It was like a letter without a stamp. She put it in her pocket. Then she walked back toward the town.

Alma tidak punya kamera. Ia tidak mengenal pemiliknya. Tetapi rol itu terasa berat di tangannya. Seperti surat tanpa perangko. Ia memasukkannya ke saku. Lalu ia berjalan kembali ke arah kota.

The bait shop stood at the start of the pier. It was still open. A woman in a blue coat sold hooks and worms there.

Toko umpan berdiri di pangkal dermaga. Toko itu masih buka. Seorang perempuan bermantel biru menjual kail dan cacing di sana.

"Excuse me," said Alma. "I found this on the last bench."

"Permisi," kata Alma. "Saya menemukan ini di bangku terakhir."

The woman took the tube and read the label. "Film," she said. "Nobody uses that now. And lamps? What a strange thing to photograph."

Perempuan itu mengambil tabung dan membaca labelnya. "Film," katanya. "Sekarang tak ada yang memakainya. Dan lampu? Aneh sekali yang difoto."

"Do you know who lost it?"

"Apakah Anda tahu siapa yang menghilangkannya?"

"No. But ask the man with the yellow bucket. He sits near the middle. He sees everyone."

"Tidak. Tapi tanyakan kepada pria berember kuning. Dia duduk di dekat tengah. Dia melihat semua orang."

"Thank you."

"Terima kasih."

"Tell the owner to buy a better case," said the woman. "That lid is loose."

"Bilang kepada pemiliknya untuk membeli wadah yang lebih bagus," kata perempuan itu. "Tutupnya longgar."

Alma walked out along the pier again. The lamps were all on now. The boards made a soft sound under her shoes.

Alma berjalan lagi ke tengah dermaga. Semua lampu sudah menyala. Papan-papan mengeluarkan bunyi lembut di bawah sepatunya.

The man with the yellow bucket sat on a folding stool. Three lines hung over the rail. A small radio played soft music near his boots.

Pria berember kuning itu duduk di bangku lipat. Tiga tali pancing menggantung di atas pagar. Sebuah radio kecil memainkan musik lembut di dekat sepatu botnya.

"Good evening," said Alma. "Is this yours?"

"Selamat malam," kata Alma. "Apakah ini milik Bapak?"

He looked at the tube for a while. "No. I only catch fish," he said. "But I know this writing."

Pria itu memandangi tabung itu sebentar. "Bukan. Saya cuma memancing," katanya. "Tapi saya kenal tulisan ini."

"You do?"

"Bapak kenal?"

"A young man came here all year. He stopped at every lamp. He took one picture, and then he wrote in his notebook." The man shook his head. "I thought he was a little crazy."

"Seorang pemuda datang ke sini sepanjang tahun. Dia berhenti di setiap lampu. Dia memotret satu kali, lalu menulis di buku catatannya." Pria itu menggeleng. "Saya kira dia agak gila."

"Did you see him today?"

"Apakah Bapak melihatnya hari ini?"

"I did. He sat on the last bench for a while. Then he ran down the stairs to the beach. He looked like someone who forgot something."

"Ya. Dia duduk di bangku terakhir beberapa saat. Lalu dia lari menuruni tangga ke pantai. Dia seperti orang yang melupakan sesuatu."

Alma looked at the stairs. The sky was almost black now. The air smelled of salt and old rope. She could go home. The tube was not her problem.

Alma memandang tangga itu. Langit hampir hitam sekarang. Udara berbau garam dan tali tua. Ia bisa pulang. Tabung itu bukan urusannya.

But she thought about thirty-six lamps. She thought about a whole year of evenings. It sat in her pocket, small and light. For once, something needed her. She sighed. Then she went down the stairs.

Tetapi ia memikirkan tiga puluh enam lampu. Ia memikirkan sepanjang tahun sore-sore itu. Semuanya ada di sakunya, kecil dan ringan. Untuk sekali ini, ada sesuatu yang membutuhkannya. Ia menghela napas. Lalu ia menuruni tangga.

The sand was cold and hard. Under the pier, wooden legs stood in rows. They looked like tall, quiet people. A small light moved between them. It went left, then right, then low to the ground.

Pasirnya dingin dan keras. Di bawah dermaga, tiang-tiang kayu berdiri berbaris. Tampak seperti orang-orang tinggi yang diam. Sebuah cahaya kecil bergerak di antara mereka. Ke kiri, lalu ke kanan, lalu rendah ke tanah.

A man walked there with a torch. He bent over often and touched the sand with his hand. He talked to himself in a low, worried voice.

Seorang pria berjalan di sana dengan senter. Ia sering membungkuk dan menyentuh pasir dengan tangannya. Ia berbicara sendiri dengan suara rendah yang cemas.

"Hello?" Alma called. "Are you looking for something?"

"Halo?" panggil Alma. "Apakah Anda mencari sesuatu?"

The light jumped toward her. "A roll of film," said the man. "It is in a small black tube. I looked for an hour."

Cahaya itu melompat ke arahnya. "Sebuah rol film," kata pria itu. "Ada di tabung hitam kecil. Saya sudah mencari satu jam."

"Does the tube say 'Lamps' on the side?"

"Apakah di sisi tabungnya tertulis 'Lampu'?"

He stopped. The light shook a little.

Pria itu berhenti. Cahaya senternya bergetar sedikit.

Alma held up the tube. The man did not move. Then he took it with both hands, as if it could break.

Alma mengangkat tabung itu. Pria itu tidak bergerak. Lalu ia menerimanya dengan kedua tangan, seakan benda itu bisa pecah.

"Where?" His voice was thin.

"Di mana?" Suaranya tipis.

"On the last bench. By lamp thirty-six."

"Di bangku terakhir. Dekat lampu tiga puluh enam."

"I sat there to take it out of my camera," he said. "Then my phone rang. I went down to the beach to talk. Later my pocket was empty. I looked under the pier for an hour. I never thought of the bench." He pressed the tube against his coat. "My name is Naveen. I am sorry. I cannot say anything clever."

"Saya duduk di sana untuk mengeluarkannya dari kamera," katanya. "Lalu ponsel saya berdering. Saya turun ke pantai untuk bicara. Belakangan saku saya kosong. Saya mencari di bawah dermaga selama satu jam. Saya tidak pernah terpikir ke bangku itu." Ia menekan tabung itu ke mantelnya. "Nama saya Naveen. Maaf, saya tidak bisa mengatakan hal yang pintar."

"I am Alma. You do not have to."

"Saya Alma. Anda tidak perlu."

Naveen laughed, a short and shaky laugh. He sat down on the sand. After a moment, Alma sat beside him.

Naveen tertawa, tawa pendek yang gemetar. Ia duduk di pasir. Sesaat kemudian, Alma duduk di sampingnya.

"The town will take down the old lamps next month," he said. "They will put up new white ones. Plain ones. Nobody asked me."

"Bulan depan kota akan membongkar lampu-lampu tua itu," katanya. "Mereka akan memasang yang baru, yang putih. Yang polos. Tak ada yang bertanya kepada saya."

"I did not know."

"Saya tidak tahu."

"Most people do not. They are only lamps." He looked at the tube. "But number nineteen has a bent arm. Number four always has a gull on top. Number twelve hums when you stand close. I wanted to keep every one."

"Kebanyakan orang tidak tahu. Itu cuma lampu." Ia memandang tabung itu. "Tapi nomor sembilan belas lengannya bengkok. Nomor empat selalu ada camar di atasnya. Nomor dua belas berdengung kalau kita berdiri dekat. Saya ingin menyimpan setiap satunya."

"One picture each?"

"Satu gambar untuk masing-masing?"

"Only one. I have no money for more film. Every lamp got one chance." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Without this roll, the whole year is gone."

"Hanya satu. Saya tidak punya uang untuk film lagi. Setiap lampu hanya dapat satu kesempatan." Ia mengusap matanya dengan lengan bajunya. "Tanpa rol ini, seluruh tahun itu hilang."

Alma looked up. From the beach, the pier looked different. Thirty-six small suns stood in a long line over the water. Each one was a little different from the next.

Alma menengadah. Dari pantai, dermaga itu tampak berbeda. Tiga puluh enam matahari kecil berdiri berbaris panjang di atas air. Masing-masing sedikit berbeda dari yang berikutnya.

"I walk here every evening," she said. "I never saw the numbers until tonight."

"Saya berjalan di sini setiap sore," katanya. "Saya tidak pernah melihat angka-angkanya sampai malam ini."

"Now you know them."

"Sekarang Anda mengenalnya."

"Now I know them. I will look at number nineteen first."

"Sekarang saya mengenalnya. Saya akan melihat nomor sembilan belas lebih dulu."

They stood up and brushed the sand from their coats. Naveen held the tube in both hands again. He did not open it. He only held it close.

Mereka berdiri dan mengibaskan pasir dari mantel mereka. Naveen memegang tabung itu dengan kedua tangan lagi. Ia tidak membukanya. Ia hanya memeluknya dekat.

"Is it all right?" asked Alma.

"Apakah semuanya baik-baik saja?" tanya Alma.

"It is perfect." He smiled for the first time. "Every lamp is in here. You saved my whole year."

"Sempurna." Ia tersenyum untuk pertama kalinya. "Setiap lampu ada di dalam sini. Anda menyelamatkan seluruh tahun saya."